


A Tale of Two Brothers

by vandevere



Category: Chuck (TV), Stargate SG-1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandevere/pseuds/vandevere
Summary: An Intersect and a NSA Agent get Sucked into interplanetary adventures...





	1. Chapter 1

Under normal circumstances, Sarah Walker would be excited, and _proud_ , to be here, in the very top-secret complex that was Stargate Command. But the circumstances today are far from normal…

Walker is in the Stargate Chamber, surrounded by an even dozen Marines; each man and woman armed to the teeth, weapons out and ready, and all waiting for SG-15 to dial home.

Walker looks back and up, sees the glassed-off partition that is the Stargate Control. Three people are in there now. The Stargate Operator is there, and, at his back, two generals; one of whom Walkers knows quite well…

General Beckman looks back down at the Stargate, her thin, pinched features made even more so by worry; a worry shared by Sarah Walker.

_Chuck Bartowski and John Casey; where are they? Are they okay?_

The kidnapping had been so unexpected. Who would've believed that extraterrestrials would take an interest in the Intersect? John Casey had managed to follow the kidnappers, leaving Sarah Walker behind. Now, he and Chuck were on another _world_ , light years from Mother Earth; and SG-15 had been sent in to retrieve them.

Klaxons began to sound…

"SG-15 is dialing in, sir," the Operator speaks to the General standing beside General Beckman.

"Okay," the other general-Walker thinks his name is _O'Neill_ -says. "Open the iris, and look sharp, people!"

At first, the opening gate reminds Walker of a bidet; although the stuff fountaining out of the gate isn't water by any stretch of the imagination. As the Stargate goes through its opening cycle, more people enter the Chamber. A doctor-Janet Fraiser-in charge of four aides bearing a stretcher, and Walker feels a chill go down her spine. SG-15 has already reported one casualty; a serious injury, and the _CIA_ Agent is terrified…

_Is it Chuck?_

Walker doesn't know what she'll do if Chuck dies. She remembers John Casey asking her if she has compromised herself. She never answered the question, but she thinks Casey knows the answer anyway…

The Stargate is fully open now, shimmering like a deep lake of sunny water. A human form stumbles out, almost tripping over its feet, and Walker breathes a sigh of purest relief.

Chuck Bartowski's clothes are filthy, his dark hair is dirty, and he _really_ needs a shower. But he's unhurt; physically, that is…

He's crying silently, tears rolling down his cheeks, and Sarah Walker runs to him, flings her arms around him, holds him close. Then, she looks up at him, and asks the question that _must_ be asked…

"Where's Casey, Chuck?"

Chuck's features crumple, and Walker feels a very real tang of fear shoot down her spine. That's when several Marines step out of the Stargate. The leader is heavily backlit by the Stargate's shimmer. About all Walker can tell is that he is big; around John Casey's size, and that he has a body slung over his shoulders; a body wearing dark slacks and a green _Buy More_ shirt.

_Oh, god, no…_

The man steps forward, into the light, carrying his burden carefully, and Walker sees his face.

_John? No… Not John. Not John Casey at all…_

The face is the same; the _exact_ same. But a different soul lives behind those blue eyes.

_Not-Casey_ walks up to the stretcher, gently lays the body down upon it, and Walker's throat tightens at the sight…

John Casey's _Buy More_ shirt has been torn wide open and blood-stained gauze and tape covers his broad chest. More blood, some drying, some not, shows at the corners of his mouth, and his nose. Dr. Fraiser checks his pupils, and an aide slides a ventilator down Casey's throat. He's clearly not breathing on his own, and another aide is starting chest compressions as they haul the stretcher off to the Medical Wing.

_Not-Casey_ stands there, watching the stretcher disappear, and there's a world of hurt in his eyes. Unstrapping his helmet, he looks up at Stargate Control; at the two generals; and, if looks really could kill, Walker figures Beckman would be ash by now…

"I Flashed on him," Chuck speaks quietly

"Whom?"

" _Him,_ " Chuck straightens, looking at _Not-Casey_. "He's John Casey's twin brother; and his name is Dave Dixon. _Colonel_ Dave Dixon."

"What?" Sarah Walker looks at the man, at Colonel Dixon. In retrospect, she realizes she shouldn't be that surprised. Only true identical twins looked that much alike.

"They shot him in the chest," Chuck continues, the horror of what he has seen showing in his eyes. "They shot him with this weapon that came right out of Star Wars, and now, he's going to die."

"Chuck-"Walker began, but Chuck cuts her off.

"He's going to die, Sarah; and it's all because of me!"

"No," Walker keeps her arms around Chuck. "Casey isn't going to die. He's too ornery, too _contrary_ , to die. He'll survive this; even if only to spite the opposition."

"He'd better not die," Colonel Dixon's voice startles the hell out of Walker and Bartowski. "When he's recovered, I'm gonna kick his ass into next week. They told me he was dead!"

"John Casey?"

" _Casey?_ Hell no! His name is Johnny Dixon, and he's got a lot of explaining to do. Our Mom died thinking he was dead; and he's got four Nieces and Nephews who've never laid eyes on their Uncle Johnny, except for old family snapshots."

_Colonel Dixon, please report to General O'Neill._

They all hear the PA. Dixon curses under his breath, something fairly rancid, and stomps off. Walker and Bartowski stay where they are for a minute.

Then, Bartowski stirs, begins to move.

"Where are you going, Chuck?"

"I need to find a place to pray, Sarah. Casey can't die. He's got _family_ , whether he knows it or not; whether he wants it or not. And he can't die like this."

Chuck strode off, looking for an exit, muttering something about finding a quiet place within which to pray…


	2. Chapter 2

_LA California_

This was the year when everything became so…complicated. Chuck Bartowski had been a lowly Nerd-Herder, a _lonely_ Nerd-Herder with but two friends in all the wide world. One was his sister, Ellie Bartowski, a doctor, and Significant Other of the _Awesome_ Captain Awesome. The other was Morgan Grimes, fellow Gamer, and all-around best friend. But not even Ellie and Morgan could help Chuck with what another so-called friend had done to him.

_Bryce Larkin; some friend he was. Stole my girlfriend, got me kicked out of Stanford, downloaded all the government's secrets into my brain…_

And the complications just kept on coming. _Fulcrum_ wanted him-either to claim the secrets in his brain, or to kill him-Chuck wasn't sure which would be worse, and he certainly didn't want to find out.

Even so, it wasn't _all_ bad. He had made some new friends…

Sarah Walker…

She was a friend; perhaps she was more than that. Maybe, just maybe, she was the woman of his dreams.

If they could get through the fact she was a _CIA_ agent, sent in to protect him…

His _other_ new friend had been sent by the _NSA_. Major John Casey, one of the hardest men alive, now reduced to selling DVDs, Toasters, and grills-he had a real flair for selling the Beast master Model, btw-all as a cover for _his_ role in protecting the Intersect.

Sarah was accepting of Chuck's very real drawbacks in the spy career. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't wanted the drama, _or_ the excitement; and Walker understood that. She was gentle with him…

There was no gentleness in John Casey; none whatsoever…

Casey was a one-man killing machine, and his opinion of Chuck, of his relationship with Sarah, was painfully clear. For a while, Chuck had actually wondered if Casey had a soul.

Well…Ilsa's appearance had changed all that. Chuck had seen Casey in love, in despair, drunk, and listening to Neil Diamond, of all things.

So, maybe Casey had a soul after all…

But, he still sneered at his charge at every opportunity, and there were plenty of those because Chuck _wasn't_ a one-man killing machine.

So, he had John Casey to keep him…humble in his new-found role of Intersect, and all-around keeper of dangerous Intel…

But he also had Sarah Walker; and-despite all the Secret Agent stuff going on all around them, all the acting-the connection between them was _real_ …

In fact, there she was, entering the _Buy More_ , wearing her _Weinerlicious_ uniform, bringing lunch for the Intersect, and his _NSA_ protector.

Chuck watched her approach, feeling this funny mix of emotions-part amusement, part pride-as Jeff, Lester, and all the others, looked from Sarah Walker, back to Chuck; the geek who made good…

Morgan Grimes, in particular, looked proud that a Nerd-Herder had not only aspired to such heights, but not been shot down. Of course, Morgan Grimes didn't know _why_ Sarah Walker had come into Chuck's life. That was the one thing he could _never_ know…

_What they don't know can't kill them. I hope…_

Of course, Ellie Bartowski had almost died because of what she didn't know, and Chuck knew, by now, that there was no such thing as _true_ safety for the Intersect's friends. But Walker and Casey did their level best to keep everyone safe.

"Hey, Chuck," Sarah walked up to him, smiling brightly. "Hungry?'

"You bet," ever the courteous gentleman, Chuck lifted the large bag from her hands, offering his arm as they strolled into the Theater Room.

"About time you showed up, Walker," John Casey growled at the pair. "I'm starving!"

"Okay," Chuck opened the bag of _Weinerlicious_ goodies, took out two Wieners With the Works, and a large, black coffee. "Gotta feed the beast. Here. Happy now?"

The NSA agent grunted something that might have been _thanks_ , then headed away with his lunch, giving Sarah and Chuck some privacy.

Chuck ate quietly, unable to take his eyes off the _CIA_ agent. She was so beautiful; way out of his league. Of course, the _relationship_ had started as a cover for Walker, a way for her to stay close to the Intersect. But, as with everything else in Chuck's life lately, there had been complications…

He had fallen in love with her; and-even more amazing-she had fallen in love with him; even though Chuck was quite certain this was breaking all the rules in _the CIA agent's handbook of rules and guidelines…_

So, now, here they both were, eating their hot dogs, and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.

"I'm gonna be sick," John Casey announced. "You two are getting all…sappy…"

"Still jealous…"Chuck sent a brilliant grin in Casey's direction. "… _Sugar Bear?"_

Chuck heard Sarah's _snerk,_ as she tried-unsuccessfully-to convert her laughter into a cough. Casey, for his part, growled once more-#3, with added _threat of dire physical harm_ -then left the room.

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"You really shouldn't needle Casey like that," Sarah wiped her eyes.

"I know," Chuck agreed. "But, he makes such an inviting target sometimes. Don't worry; he'll make me regret every last word before the day is done. Remember; we're car-pooling."

"Ah…" Sarah's eyes held a glint of amusement. "Poor you…"

* * *

_Colorado Springs_

General Jack O'Neill wasn't in a very good mood right now. _Something_ had entered the Solar System a short while ago, under an impenetrable Cloaking Shield; and was coyly keeping itself hidden from all and sundry.

O'Neill's favorite team-SG-1-was away, too, out on a mission involving delicate diplomatic negotiations, so they couldn't be pulled out for this.

There was a knock on the door…

"Come in!" his voice sounded snappish even to his own ears.

The door opened, and Colonel Dave Dixon stood inside the doorway.

"Sir," he saluted easily. "They said you needed me?"

"Yeah…Come in, Dave. We have ourselves a bit of a situation."

"I heard," Dixon took a seat, stretching his long legs. "Any news about our shy friend?"

"Not _Tok'ra_ , or _Asgard_ ," O'Neill scratched the back of his neck. "Could be Go'uald, or…"

O'Neill's voice trailed off.

"Or something new?" Dixon tilted his head.

"Dear lord, I hope not," there was a fervent tone in O'Neill's voice. "There are too many players in this game already. I'm beginning to lose track."

"So, one more will make a difference…how?"

"Shut up, Dave. I've cancelled SG-15's missions for the duration. I'll need you guys here, until we determine exactly who, or _what_ , our shy visitor is."

"What are you thinking it could be, sir?"

"I don't know!" O'Neill stood, began to pace. "Invading hordes, plagues of locusts, Replicators, Apophis; it could be _anything_ , and I don't want us to get caught with our pants down."

"Yes, sir," Dixon stood up. "SG-15 is here for you."

* * *

_LA_

John Casey heaved a sigh of relief. Another day at the _Buy More_ over and done with; another day of dealing with clueless morons and idiots, over and done with.

_If I have to talk to one more pimple-faced kid…_

He shook himself back into wakefulness. His shift at the _Buy More_ was done. But his work day was far from over. Now, it was time to see the Intersect safely home; and that meant car-pooling with the geek, and his best friend, Morgan Grimes. He shuddered at the thought of being exposed to yet more Gaming inanity.

Morrowind…World of Warcraft…Eve Online…Guild Wars…

_I wish I had my Crown Vic. If only Bartowski…_

Well…no. That was being unfair. If not for the Intersect's quick actions that day, all three members of Team Chuck would've been very dead. It still rankled, though. That Crown Vic had been Casey's Dream Car, and the geek had killed it…

Casey had wanted to hate him for that; but Chuck wasn't an easy man to hate…

Chuck Bartowski was… _nice_ …

Bartowski was unschooled in the ways of hiding his emotions; his face, and body were an open book for anyone to read; and he had this freely trusting nature that the _NSA_ agent was utterly unused to dealing with.

In the course of almost twenty years with the _NSA_ , John Casey had been exposed to all the sordid viciousness humanity was capable of; prostitution, drugs, murder, terrorism, and counter-terrorism. _Those_ , John Casey knew how to deal with; usually succinctly, with a bullet between the eyes of whatever villain he happened to be facing at the time.

But Chuck Bartowski was a good and decent man; just like all the countless millions Casey had taken Oath to protect and defend; to die for, if necessary…

He was also the Intersect; the man Casey had been ordered to protect. The man he would be ordered to kill when the Beta Intersect came online…

And that was something that bothered John Casey far more than he would ever admit, to anyone. Just _what_ would he do if he actually got the order to kill Bartowski? Now, _that_ was a question Casey didn't want to answer…

There the geek was, ambling along with Sarah Walker, one arm around Walker's shoulder, and Casey felt a brief stab of…well…yes…jealousy.

Bartowski had Walker, and Walker had Bartowski.

_And I have…what…the NSA?_

He shook himself again. Now was not a good time to indulge in self-pity.

Then, Casey's instincts, honed by twenty years in the _NSA_ , went into high gear. Something was…off…about the people in the parking lot. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the anomaly, his hands reaching for the gun at his back, tucked under his green _Buy More_ shirt.

He knew most of the people by sight; fellow employees from the _Buy More_ , others from the _Weinerlicious,_ and all the people who shopped in the mall. There were also four men, led by a man who looked African-American, and strode across the pavement as if he ruled the world,

Bartowski had stopped. He was staring at the man, with that _deer-in-the-headlights_ look that always spelled trouble for Casey and Walker.

Bartowski was _Flashing…_

If the look on the geek's face was anything to go by, this man was very bad news indeed. Love hadn't blinded the _CIA_ agent. Under the guise of laying her head on Bartowski's shoulder, she slowly began to guide him away from those four men, her eyes catching Casey's. Casey allowed himself an imperceptible nod as he moved; keeping watchful eyes on the four strangers that had frightened the Intersect.

Then, the men moved…

All the man did was raise his hand; and a bolt of light flashed out, striking Agent Walker.

"Sarah!" Casey heard Bartowski's cry, but there was really no time to deal with that. The man was turning to face _him_ , and the _NSA_ agent barely ducked the bolt of light sent his way. Ducking behind a car, he peered out at the scene.

Bartowski was cradling Walker in his arms, and Casey couldn't tell, from this distance, whether she was alive or not.

_Definitely incapacitated…_

This would have to be handled with care…

* * *

_Apophis! Oh god, Apophis…_

In the instant he had seen that man; a flood of data had swamped Chuck Bartowski. In less that a minute, he had learned all about Stargates, and the Go'uald. All things being equal, he could have done without the knowledge quite happily.

Holding Sarah Walker, he was relieved to see she was alive; pulse strong, and breathing normally.

_They stunned her, that's all…_

"All right!" a Security Guard was there, gun drawn. "Hands up! You're under arrest!"

"Surely, you jest," Apophis chuckled, as if amused by the temerity of this man. "The Go'uald do not obey the commands of slaves."

_Yep…_ Chuck thought disjointedly. _The Go'uald are in the house, and they're here…for me?_

In spite of now-mortal terror, he moved to grab Sarah walker, to drag her away to something faintly approximating safety. Apophis grabbed the back of his neck, hauled him to his feet. The pain lancing down Chuck's arms and legs was almost paralyzing. Casey was somewhere in the background, perhaps trying to get a clear place for those kill-shots he was so good at. And the Security Guard was right in front of them.

"I _said_ raise your hands," the guard ordered. "Now."

One of Apophis' men moved, and the cop whirled to face him; far too late. It looked like a hand-gun, but, instead of bullets, energy bolts streaked out, striking the Security Guard in the chest. Chuck saw the man die, smelled the smell of scorched fabric, and burnt flesh.

Two gunshots rang out, and the killer went down, bullet-holes in his back. Chuck saw Casey whirl behind a parked truck, hiding until he was ready to pop out and kill another of Apophis' henchmen. But, Apophis apparently understood that strategy too.

"Flush him out," he ordered.

So, the other two men drew their weapons, also energy weapons, and began blasting away at cars, minivans, and trucks in the parking lot. It was the fourth, a SUV, that brought John Casey out of hiding; and Chuck was appalled at the situation. Three targets, and if Casey went for any of them, the other two would get him. Perhaps, Casey realized that two. He had the look of one preparing for one last desperate charge…

"No!" Chuck yelled. "Don't do it! Please don't!"

"The young man speaks true," Apophis said. "You can not win this. Lay down your gun, or this man dies now."

Chuck stood there; nothing else he could do, really. The man's grip was like a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. He literally couldn't move his arms or legs. But, he could pray…

_Please, Casey; don't get yourself killed…_

The _NSA_ agent met Chuck's gaze; a question there, in those blue eyes. He glanced around, assessing the situation, calculating chances. Then, his shoulders slumped. With an audible snarl, he knelt, placing his gun on the pavement.

"Good," Apophis nodded. "Move away from the weapon. You interest me almost as much as the Intersect does."

"How did you…" Chuck felt pure horror rise up within him. The Go'uald knew about the Intersect?

"No matter," Still gripping Chuck by the back of the neck, he casually brought his other hand up again.

Chuck saw Casey's eyes widen, as he started to lunge for his gun. He didn't make it. The energy bolt struck him, flinging him to the ground.

"No!" Chuck screamed, trying to break free of the paralyzing grip on his neck.

"Your warrior friend lives," Apophis spoke in a soothing voice. "He interests me; and he would make a fine Host for my Brethren."

Apophis' men holstered their weapons, and walked up to where Casey lay sprawled on the pavement. They hauled him up, bearing his weight between them.

"Very well," Apophis looked around. "We are done here."

* * *

Stunned, unable to move, but aware of everything, Sarah Walker watched, despairingly, as the men hauled John Casey's unconscious form up. The _NSA_ agent's head lolled as they supported him between them.

Then, the group…disappeared.

The attackers, John Casey, and Chuck; they just disappeared…

She could hear sirens in the distance; the police-late, as usual-and coming closer.

Walker forced herself to move, hearing voices all around her.

"Who were those guys?"

"They killed Eddie! Did you see that?"

"What would they want with two _Buy More_ peons?"

"Sarah, you okay?"

That was Morgan Grimes, looking white as a sheet.

"They took Chuck!" He was almost in tears. "What are we gonna tell Ellie? And…they took Casey too. What could they possibly want with _him?"_

"It was a botched robbery attempt." That was a pathetic lie, but it would have to do. "I'm feeling wobbly, Morgan…"

"Let me take you to the theater room," Morgan was even geekier than Chuck, in oh so many ways. But, like Chuck, he had a good heart.

Besides, the theater room was _exactly_ where she needed to go. Her boss and Casey's too, would need to be informed of this unexpected turn of events….

* * *

_Colorado Springs_

"Let me get this straight," Jack O'Neill stared at the Comm screen, at the two people at the other end. "There's this guy you've been protecting, a regular nerdy guy, who just _happens_ to have all our government's secrets downloaded into his brain; and the _CIA_ , and the _NSA_ have been baby-sitting him. And, now, these kidnappers-one of who bears a striking resemblance to Apophis-have managed to kidnap your boy, and the _NSA_ agent."

"That about sums it up," Director Graham spoke evenly.

"Okay…" O'Neill rubbed his eyes, feeling one of _those_ headaches coming on. "And you want us to find them…how, exactly? It's a big galaxy out there, and way more populous than previously expected."

"Their watches," General Beckman said.

"Uh…come again?"

"Charles Bartowski and John Casey both wear watches equipped with GPS."

"Which would be fine if they were on Earth; but they're _not_. Our mysterious visitor, err… _warped_ …out of here just a few minutes after the kidnapping. Your errant pair could be _anywhere_."

"Even so," Beckman put her hands in her lap. "Some technology gleaned by the Stargate Program has managed to trickle down to us; and I've been told by our tech experts, that it should be possible to adapt the Stargate to search for specific GPS codes. Once they've been found, it will just be a matter of sending SG-1 in to rescue them, and everything-"

"Hold up there," O'Neill raised a hand. "SG-1 isn't available. However, you'll be pleased to know that SG-15 has been put on Alert Status, and they'll be ready to go whenever they're needed."

General Beckman's features went still.

"That is unacceptable," she spoke flatly.

"What have you got against Colonel Dixon?"

"Nothing, Jack. But-"

"Look," Director Graham interrupted. "We haven't even found Bartowski, or Casey, yet. I'm sending our _CIA_ operative, Sarah Walker, with the GPS codes for the watches. I trust you'll show her every courtesy?"

"All right, Director Graham," O'Neill barely managed to rein his temper in. "I look forward to meeting her…"

He switched the screen off.

" _Not_ ," he added, glaring at the blank screen.

"I wonder what she has against you," he looked back at Colonel Dixon.

Dixon had been standing quietly at the back of the room, out of sight, out of mind.

"I don't know," the Colonel sat down, looking thoughtful. "I've met her before, though; years ago, at my brother's funeral."

"Yeah," O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "I had heard about that. Crashed jet fighter, wasn't it?"

"In _eighty-eight_ ," Dixon nodded. "She didn't speak to me at all. She spoke to my Mom, attended the funeral, left, and that was it."

* * *

Sarah Walker was feeling far less scrambled now. The cover story, that both Chuck and Casey had been kidnapped in a botched mugging attempt had been put out, and the cops in LA were investigating that. Morgan and Captain Awesome were taking care of Ellie Bartowski; the poor woman was climbing the walls in her worry over her little brother; and Walker was sent to Colorado Springs, with the GPS codes to help the Stargate people locate Chuck and Casey.

The flight out had been uneventful, and Walker had taken that opportunity to rest, to clear the last of that stun bolt out of her system.

The fact that she was being sent to Stargate Command spoke volumes about the situation. The kidnappers were of extraterrestrial origin; and they knew about the Intersect.

_How did they find out?_

At least John Casey was there; if they hadn't killed him…

At the airport, she was met by men in military fatigues, who took her, by jeep, the rest of the way. Apparently that meant traveling deep underground, through a truly labyrinthine series of twists and turns.

Finally, after a having been very deeply scrutinized as to her identity, Sarah Walker found herself sitting in General O'Neill's office; the codes for the GPS transponders in Chuck's and Casey's watches in the briefcase sitting on her lap. The meeting was brief, a mere formality. Then, a Lieutenant escorted Walker to Stargate Control.

Sergeant Walter Harriman reminded her of Chuck, in a way; a thoroughly affable guy, he understood tech on almost an instinctive level. A Military Geek; who would a thunkit?

When the transponder codes were inputted, Harriman set the Stargate to cycle through all the known planets, and/or moons in Stargate's Registry of Planets.

"That's it," he patted the console. "Now, we wait. The kidnap victims, they're friends of yours?"

"Ah…yes. How long do you think it'll take?"

"I don't know," Harriman admitted. "They came by ship, so there's no guarantee they will be going to a planet with a Stargate…"

Walker felt her face fall at that news, and she heard Harriman's voice trail off.

Then the man spoke again.

"Don't worry, Ms. Walker. We're Miracle People here. We'll find your friends and bring them back; safe and sound."

_He's trying to cheep me up. How sweet…_

It meant something to her, Harriman's trying to ease her worry; and she _was_ worried about her friends. Casey occupied her thoughts almost as much as Chuck, she was surprised to realize. When had that come about? She loved Chuck, even though she could never admit that to her superiors. But, whence came this concern over John Casey?

Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that they _were_ partners now.

And the last she had seen of him, the _NSA_ agent had been in no position to protect himself…

* * *

_Location Unknown_

Chuck Bartowski had never felt so terrified in his life. Not even with the _FULCRUM_ agent holding a gun to his head; when Bryce Larkin had asked him-in Klingon-if he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.

The starship had gone into hyperspace almost as soon as they were aboard. They had also separated Chuck and Casey-who was still unconscious.

They dropped Chuck in this little white cell-no furnishings at all, not even a cot-and left him there for a few hours.

Then, when he was beginning to think they had forgotten all about him, the cell-door opened again, and he was escorted back to Apophis.

"Where's Casey?" Chuck asked one of the guards.

"Be quiet, slave," the man commanded.

So, Chuck obeyed.

They took him to the Transporter Room, and this was nothing like the Star Trek shows. These…rings…fell down around him and the guards. When the blinding light faded, they were on land, and Chuck, looking up, seeing the Sun, and _two_ moons, knew they were on another world…

This was a world of vast, and disturbing, extremes. There was high tech, and opulent luxury, all of it cheek-by-jowl with abject poverty such as Chuck had only seen in Third World Countries. But this wasn't Earth. His Flashes had told him everything he needed to know…

This was a Go'uald world, and Apophis ruled it absolutely, with an iron fist. All the people bowed deeply to their lord and master; prostrating themselves before him like an Eastern Potentate.

_Where are you, Casey?_

He heard a snapping of fingers.

"Come here, Intersect," Apophis commanded.

Chuck took a few hesitant steps into the luxurious chamber, just looking around.

_Shades of Taylor and Burton,_ he thought. _People really do live like this?_

"You wanted to see me?" he squeaked, hearing, and _hating_ that squeak.

"Ah, yes…" Apophis strode up, smiling fiercely. "To think that all of Earth's secrets lie within your head…"

"How did you-"

"We had people in _FULCRUM_ ," Apophis laughed. "We took one man called Bryce Larkin."

"You took…" Chuck had to clear his throat. "Bryce…where is he?"

'Dead," Apophis brushed it all aside. "He was a broken thing after the interrogation."

_Bryce Larkin…dead…_

All of a sudden, Chuck was on his knees, heaving his guts out,

"How unpleasant," Apophis murmured, stepping around the mess. He snapped a finger, spoke in a language the Nerd-Herder didn't know. A slave bowed then went to get other slaves to clean the floor.

Chuck knelt there, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he knew what he would have to do…

"I can't let you have it," he said.

"You will not succeed," Apophis turned back to the Intersect. "In the end, it will be for you as it was for Bryce Larkin. You will beg to die, to be released from your torment. In the end, you will spill your very soul…"

Thing was, Chuck knew Apophis was right. He wasn't cut out for this. But he _had_ to fight this; even if the resistance he could put up only amounted to a token resistance.

He heard Apophis talking to a guard.

"Take him, tie him, and put him in the cell."

It was done quickly; his wrists and ankles bound with stout rope. Then, a guard-the man was larger than Casey-hefted Chuck over his shoulder, and toted him through a dizzying series of hall, side-doors, and tunnels, coming, at last, to the Dungeon. There, he was dropped in a cell, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving him in almost total darkness.

Chuck was able to hold it together for a while. Then, the true seriousness of his situation came to him. Bryce Larkin was dead; and John Casey was probably dead too; and there was no one left who could save him this time.

_I'm going to die here._

He couldn't stop the whimper, the tears welling in his eyes…

* * *

For John Casey, there had been the memory of putting his gun on the ground. With Walker down, and Casey surrounded, their options had suddenly become very limited. So, Casey had surrendered, hoping to talk to the guy, maybe keep him occupied until the cops came. But the man clearly had other ideas…

Casey saw him raise his hand, the same hand that had, somehow, fired an energy bolt at Agent Walker. Casey didn't have time to reach his gun. He didn't even have time to think _oh, shit…_

It felt like electrocution, like pure current sizzling through his body, dropping him to the ground like a pole-axed mule. He had heard Chuck scream; and, after that, darkness…

…He opened his eyes to almost complete darkness, feeling vaguely surprised he was still alive. In this darkness, he tried to take stock of his situation. His hands had been tied behind his back, and his ankles bound together as well; the ropes biting into wrists and ankles. His head was pounding dully; probably a by-product of whatever had knocked him out.

He wasn't alone in this cell. He could hear the sound of whimpering, barely-controlled sobs…

"Oh, _god_ , Bartowski," he grumped. "Will you _please_ stop that sniveling?"

" _C-Casey?_ " Bartowski sounded like a terrified child. "Is that you?"

"'Course it's me, you moron. Now, shut up and let me do this."

"Do what?"

"What did I just say? Shut your trap, Bartowski."

The geek fell silent, except for the occasional sniffle. Casey concentrated on his wrists. Fortunately, they hadn't taken his watch. Not that he had any hopes of friendlies locating him, or Chuck, through the GPS transponders. But Casey's watch was special in another way entirely. He flexed his wrist, and a little, but razor-sharp knife slipped out of the watch-band, falling right into his palm.

It took a few minutes, and a few gashes. But, finally, the ropes binding Casey's wrists parted. He sat up quickly, and started on the ropes at his ankles; a much quicker job.

"I'm free, Bartowski," he whispered. "Gimme a moment and I'll get you free too."

"Sweet," Chuck whispered. "I was beginning to think-"

" _Shh_!" Casey ordered. There were footsteps, coming closer…

The _NSA_ agent flattened himself against the wall, fingers closing around the little knife's hilt. It wasn't much of a weapon; but it was all he had right now, so it would have to do…

The footsteps stopped at the cell-door, and Casey held his breath. The lock turned, and the cell-door opened slowly, letting in brilliant light, making Bartowski's pupils constrict, as the geek closed his eyes against the sudden glare.

Only one man was there, and he took one step inside, attention focused on the Intersect; a mistake which was to prove fatal for this man. Casey crept up behind him, one arm immobilizing him, knife-hand coming up to his throat. The killing occurred in absolute silence, and Casey was glad Bartowski had closed his eyes, and _kept_ them closed, through all of that. Casey eased the body to the floor, frisked it quickly.

The search yielded one gun, and a set of keys…

_Good; we can get out of this place…I hope…_

"Okay, Bartowski," he quickly freed the Intersect. "Let's go."

As the geek got to his feet, Casey, feeling better now that he had a gun-even if it looked to be one of those energy bolt weapons-edged to the half-open door and peered out. The hall had only one exit, a closed door at the end. Muttering orders for Bartowski to stay close, Casey stepped out into the hall, and moved to the closed door. It was locked, but one of the keys fit.

Again, he peered out and around. Nobody was there. Not even a guard…

_Thank god for lax security…_

After that, it was simply a matter of staying within the shadows whenever possible, moving as carefully as a pair of mice in a house of cats.

Finally, they were outside, in the light of day. Casey guided them to what looked like a forest.

"Forests are pretty good places to hide in." he told Bartowski.

"Unless they're using scanners," Bartowski was still shaking.

"You got a better idea?"

The geek flinched at his tone, and Casey sighed.

"Look, Bartowski," his voice was less harsh this time. "Right now, we are so far up the creek, the Eskimos are waving us goodbye. I know you're scared. Just try to hold it together; all right?"

"Bryce Larkin is dead,"

Casey stopped, turning to face Bartowski.

" _These_ people?" he shook his head. "How would they-"

"They had people in _FULCRUM_ ," Chuck spoke tonelessly. "They took Bryce, and they tortured him to death. That's how they found out about me."

"I…" right then, Casey literally had _no_ idea what to say. He had never liked Larkin; even after his status as a rogue agent had been resolved. But Chuck had thought of Larkin as a friend once; a very dear friend, at that.

"I'm…sorry," the _NSA_ agent felt truly awkward saying that, and Bartowski looked up at him in surprise. "I know he was a friend of yours."

"Yeah…" Bartowski muttered.

"Look at me," Casey commanded. "You want to survive this?"

Bartowski nodded mutely.

"Then, we have to go, into that forest. Before they find out we've escaped."

They set off, Casey in the lead. Neither man noticed his watch was blinking…

* * *

_Colorado Springs_

"We've fount them; both of them!" Sgt. Harriman whispered excitedly as he Commed O'Neill.

"That's great," O'Neill's voice came back over the Comm. "But why are you whispering?"

"Ms. Walker has fallen asleep," Harriman looked over at Walker, curled up in her chair, snoring softly. "She's had a very rough day."

SG-15 was assembling in the Stargate Chamber when General O'Neill came down.

"Your team ready, Dave?"

'Yes, sir," Dixon was all business now. "We are locked and loaded."

"Okay," O'Neill regarded the group. "You're looking for two people; a Nerd, and an _NSA_ Agent. Given the paranoid nature of most secret service agencies these days, it shouldn't surprise anyone that we only have a photo of the geek."

Copies of the photo were handed out.

"So," Dixon's Second-in-Command, Major Jane Devereaux, raised her hand. "How do we identify the Agent-guy?"

"Hopefully he'll be with the geek," O'Neill replied. "If he isn't, it'll be your call, Dave, as to whether you search for him or not. The _NSA_ , and the _CIA_ , have made it clear the Geek is their top priority."

"The agent is expendable?" Dixon gave a disgusted look.

"To _them,_ yes"

"Well," Dixon took a deep breath, let it out. "Let's go find them."

"Good luck," O'Neill nodded. "And Godspeed, people."

Stargate Control opened the Gate; SG-15 passed inside, and was gone from view. When the Gate closed, Sarah Walker awoke with a snort.

"What happened?" she was clearly trying to regain her bearings.

"We've located your friends," Harriman smiled at the look of pure relief that lightened Walker's features.

"So," Walker looked down at the closed Gate. "When do you send the Marines in?"

"Already done," the Gate Controller smirked. "SG-15 went through only a minute ago. They'll find your friends in no time."

_General O'Neill, General Beckman is here to see you._

Walker looked up at the PA announcement.

"What the hell is _she_ doing here?" she muttered.

"Let's find out," Harriman got to his feet. "I have a coffee break coming anyway."

He led Walker in the general direction of the cafeteria; another Controller taking his place at the Console.

* * *

Sarah Walker followed Sergeant Harriman through some halls, until they came upon General Jack O'Neill. O'Neill wasn't alone…

" _Look,_ " O'Neill was in a thoroughly foul mood by now. "It's too late; SG-15 went through just a few minutes ago."

Judging by the color draining from Beckman's face, one might've thought O'Neill had just announced the coming of the Apocalypse.

" _Damn…_ " Beckman muttered under her breath.

"Will you _please_ tell me what you've got against Colonel Dixon?" O'Neill had clearly had it up to _here_. "Yeah, he's a smart-ass. He's also a truly exceptional officer. If anyone can bring both of your missing people back, it'll be him, and SG-15. So… _why?"_

Beckman closed her eyes, sighing.

"I have nothing against Colonel Dixon," she said at last. "May we speak privately?"

"Uh…yeah…" O'Neill glared at Walker and Harriman. "We seem to have picked up an audience."

"Yes," Beckman glared daggers at Walker.

"I expected better of _you_ ," she accused.

"Ma'am," Walker smiled sweetly. "I thought you knew I was a spy…"

"Come on, Beckman," O'Neill gestured to his office. "I know you don't want to have to explain to Director Graham just _why_ you assaulted one of his agents."

After the two generals had disappeared inside O'Neill's office, Walker stood in silence for a moment.

"I wonder what's she's got against Colonel Dixon." Walker finally said.

"I don't know," Harriman steered her in the direction of the cafeteria. "But she looks like a pretty tough customer…."

* * *

_Location Unknown_

Apophis stood there, in the cell that had lately held two prisoners from Earth. The Go'uald Lord was furious. His two prisoners had managed to escape. More, one of the guards had been found dead. His throat had been slit with an exquisite nicety; the blue-eyed warrior, he was sure.

Walking out of the cell, he looked at the row of guards kneeling before him, a long row of heads touching the stone floor.

"I should have each of you flayed alive for your stupidity!" he roared. "Why did you not search the warrior for hidden weapons?"

"But we did!" the leader groveled before him. "He had no hidden weapons!"

"So the poor fool in the cell obliged them by slitting his own throat?"

"No, my lord, no!" the leader threw himself back down to the floor. "I beg mercy, lord! We erred…we erred…"

"If you wish mercy, you must fix your mistake," Apophis commanded. "Take a troop of men, and find my prisoners."

"What of the warrior? He is armed in truth now."

"The Intersect is the only one of interest to me. _Him,_ you must take alive. As for the warrior…"

_A pity…_ Apophis mused. _He could have proved…useful…_

"As for the warrior," he continued. "Kill him."

* * *

SG-15 stepped out into a summery-looking day. Everyone looked around; looking for signs their presence had been noticed. This _was_ , after all, a world occupied by the Go'uald; although in what strength, no one could say for sure.

"Start scanning for those GPS codes, Sergeant Plummer," Dixon ordered. "Maybe this will be a quick in-and-out…"

Sgt Plummer held the scanner, adapted to recognize GPS transponder codes.

"Got them!" Plummer announced. "They're together, and it looks like they're about a day's travel from here; possibly that forest over there."

"Think they managed to escape?" Devereaux asked.

"It's very likely," Dixon nodded. "I got a little info on this John Casey. Seems he's sudden death with any weapon, or none at all. And it would be natural to try to hide in the woods. Even if the Go'uald are using scanners, it would be harder to track them down in a forest; harder to capture them."

"Then, I respectfully suggest we hoof it," Devereaux said. "Get to our friends before the Go'uald do."

"Right," Dixon picked up his pace. "Lock and load, folks; let's move it."

SG-15 moved out, heading for the forest; Devereaux by his side.

"Sir," she asked. "Do you know anything more about the people we're supposed to find?"

"The geek is some kind of computer-nerd," Dixon was fairly sure there was more to it than that. "Apparently, both the _CIA_ , and the _NSA_ have been baby-sitting this guy."

"He must be pretty important to have two agencies looking after him like that, sir."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dixon grunted sourly. "Another thing; _how_ did the Go'uald find out about him?"

"Either a leak," Devereaux looked up at him. "Or there were spies among all the spies."

"Now, _that's_ a happy-making thought," Dixon turned, raised his voice. "Move it, people."

The group fanned out, weapons drawn and ready, as Sgt. Plummer operated his scanner, looking for a lost geek and _NSA_ agent…

* * *

"Aren't you scared, Casey?"

Casey looked at Bartowski, sitting against the bole of a tree. Casey was resting too, leaning against another tree. He considered the geek's question.

_Am I scared?_

He looked up, at the two moons in the sky. The smaller moon, heading for the horizon, looked to be roughly the size of Earth's moon; but the larger moon…

Even Casey felt a touch nervous looking up at that monstrous thing…

_So,_ _**am** _ _I scared? Hell, yeah…_

"Bartowski," he said. "It's not being afraid that's bad. It's what you _do_ with your fear that's key."

"I'm not sure," the geek spoke hesitantly. "But did you just admit you were scared?"

The _NSA_ agent snorted, feeling dangerously at the end of his fuse.

"Look, Toto," he almost snarled. "We're not in Kansas anymore. See that honkin' huge moon up there? I don't know about you, but most folks I know would _not_ be happy about this. Speaking of which; you've been Flashing, haven't you?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Now, what did I tell you about not leaving me out of the loop? Talk, Bartowski."

The geek reluctantly began to talk; and it was as if someone had opened the flood-gates.

Stargates…alien invasions…the Go'uald, and their very real link to Ancient Egypt. The whole thing was a conspiracy theorist's wet dream; including the fact that, through Stargate Command, Earth was conducting diplomatic relations with scores of extraterrestrial civilizations…

Casey's head was spinning with all the information.

_Does General Beckman know about this?_

"All human worlds?" he asked. "No little green men?"

"Well…" Bartowski shrugged. "There's the _Asgard_ ; and if you saw them, you would say they were little, and…Actually, they're _gray_ , not green. But they do look like your stereotypical X-Files Alien…"

"All right," Casey was trying to put all the pieces together. Knowledge was power; and, in this case, knowledge would keep them alive. "The people who brought us here; those are the Go'uald?"

"Yeah," the geek nodded. "But they're not human; not exactly, that is…"

Casey raised an eyebrow at that.

"Now, either they are human, or they're not, Chuck," he said. "They've got to be one or the other."

"No, Casey; they _don't_ ," Bartowski shuddered. "Actually, the Go'uald are kind of like these slugs; like Ceti Eels?"

"Never heard of Ceti Eels," Casey folded his arms across his chest.

"Not a Trekkie then, o- _kaay_ …" Bartowski continued. "Well, the Go'uald are slug-like creatures, and they get…inside…people, and take them over."

Casey snorted.

"Now, that's the _stupidest_ thing I've ever heard," he growled. "You're telling me-"

"It's true, Casey! I'm not making this up. The Go'uald used to be here on Earth. A boy got possessed by this Go'uald, started calling himself Ra, and tried to enslave all of Earth. But there was a rebellion, and we Terrans broke free. Then, this Stargate was discovered, and Dr. Daniel Jackson translated the…operation instructions…"

"Let me guess, Ra found out?"

"Well, SG-1 did kind of come knocking on his front door. Ra's dead now." Bartowski looked thoughtful. "But Apophis, the guy who kidnapped us, is sort of his heir."

"And he's like this Ra character; a human with a slug inside?"

Bartowski nodded, and then continued.

"Actually, there's another group of people…with slugs inside. And they're friends with Earth."

"And, why is that?"

"The _Tok'ra_ ," Chuck explained. "They have this really wonderful relationship with each other, the slug and humans. It's too bad you're not a Trekkie; I could've told you they were like the Trill, and that would've explained everything."

"Well, I'm _not_ ," Casey growled. "So _you're_ gonna have to explain everything."

"They simply treat each other as equals," Chuck almost smiled. "It's a man-and-slug Friendship."

"That's totally _nuts_ ," Casey muttered.

"It does have its benefits," Bartowski said. He looked more animated than he had since they had come here. "The slugs gain the ability to communicate to other species, and the humans get better health, strength, and constitution. It's win/win for the _Tok'ra._ Hey, your watch is blinking. Mine is too…"

"Thank god," Casey closed his eyes in pure relief. "Our friends have found us."

" _Really?_ " Bartowski's smile was wide. "We'll be able to go home?"

"It sure looks that way," Casey got to his feet, looking at his blinking watch. "Time to get a move on, soldier…"

That was when the blaster-bolt streaked out, hitting John Casey squarely in the chest…

* * *

" _Casey!"_

The impact knocked Casey back against the tree. For a horrifying second, he hung there, then, his legs buckled…

Chuck had never moved so fast in his life. Somehow, he got there, caught Casey's body in his arms, the man's weight driving them both down to the ground. Chuck sat up slowly, still holding Casey…

The _NSA_ agent's eyes were half-open, glassy and unfocused. Bloody froth trickled from mouth and nose; but he was still breathing; harsh-sounding gasps that were too fast, and too shallow, for Chuck's comfort.

_Ohgodohgodohgod…_

Then, Chuck became aware that they were surrounded. The leader of the force strode up, looking down at Chuck as he cradled Casey in his arms.

"Put him down, Intersect," the man said. "That I may kill him and receive my lord's favor."

Chuck had never felt such anger, such _hate_ before.

"Not a chance in hell," he whispered.

"Very well," the man nodded. "Then he shall die in your arms."

Chuck felt completely powerless. He knew that-if their places had been switched-Casey would've done something.

_But, I don't know how to fight. I don't know how to kill; not even in self-defense. Forgive me, John. All I can do is die with you…_

He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable…

There was a short burst of gunfire. Not blaster-bolts; gunfire. Guns with bullets in them; and something fell on top of him, rolling away to the ground. Chuck opened one eye, saw the man who was going to kill Casey, lying face up, eyes staring blankly.

Then, it became a real, honest-to-goodness firefight; bullets against blaster-bolts. Chuck didn't dare move. He held on to John Casey, talking to him, babbling, really…

"I think they're here, Casey. Someone's come to our rescue, and they're fighting the people who shot you. Just hang on, okay? Don't die, please, don't die…"

Those ragged gasps for air were the only response, and Chuck was terrified. He realized he was beginning to whimper again.

The rescuers were driving the Go'uald away, he realized, the sounds of battle drifting away…

"Mr. Bartowski?" he looked up at the dark-skinned Marine. She looked back down at him.

"I'm Major Jane Devereaux," she said. "SG-15 is taking care of the baddies right now. Colonel Dixon wants you to know we'll be heading home ASAP. Is this John Casey?"

"Let's see how bad it is," she knelt, eyes moving from Casey's chest, up to his face. "It's a bad chest-wound, so we'll tape him up as quickly as… _holy mother of god…"_

She pulled out her communicator.

"Colonel Dixon, sir? Yes…Chuck Bartowski's fine. The agent's here. He's been injured; a bad chest wound. And, sir…you need to see him. I mean it, sir. You _really_ need to see him."

After that, she looked up at Chuck.

"You and I are gonna tape him up, so he doesn't lost any more blood."

She tore Casey's green _Buy More_ shirt wide open. Then, she took out rolls of gauze and tape. Chuck took one look at Casey's bare chest, at the wound. Then he quickly looked away, bile rising in his throat…

"Now, what's up with the agent, and why do I need to see him?"

The man's voice, coming from behind, jarred Chuck right down to his toes.

It sounded like John Casey's voice.

But Casey was lying, and quite possibly _dying_ , in Chuck Bartowski's arms.

Then, the man walked around, and stood over him. Chuck looked up at the man; and he couldn't believe his eyes. The face was John Casey's face. The eyes were John Casey's eyes. But, the inhabiting soul that lived behind those blue eyes; that wasn't John Casey; not John Casey at all…

"The Go'uald party has been destroyed," he announced. "We'll have to move it before they mount a counter-offensive. Guy well enough to walk?"

"No, sir, he's unconscious. Either we leave him behind, or-"

" _No!"_ Chuck couldn't believe the snarl that erupted from his throat. "We don't leave Casey behind!"

"I was about to add," Devereaux gave Chuck a _settle down_ glare. "Someone could carry him. But, he's a big man; so it would have to be you, Colonel. Also, sir, _look_ at him."

"Why should I…" Dixon looked down at Casey, and his voice just trailed off.

" _Jesus…_ " he knelt, reached out a hesitant hand, trembling fingers touching the _NSA_ agent's forehead. " _Johnny?"_

And Chuck Flashed once again…

_Two brothers…twins, as alike in face and form as two peas from the same pod. There were school grades, psych evaluations, SAT scores; there were school photos, Yearbook photos. Two brothers in the Marines…And one obituary notice, for one John Dixon, killed in a tragic jet crash in Eighty-Eight…_

"Oh…god," Chuck whispered. "I'm so sorry…so sorry…"

He had seen the recognition turn to shock, to anger, to grief…

"Are you all right, sir?" Devereaux's voice shattered the sudden silence.

"All right," Dixon took a deep breath, and there was the merest hint of a hitch in that breath. "I'll carry him. We're not leaving _anyone_ behind. Ready to go?"

"Yeah…"

Chuck watched as Dixon lifted Casey, hauling him, as gently as possible, over his shoulder. Then, he headed to the rest of his trop, Chuck and Major Devereaux right behind.

* * *

Colonel Dixon set the unconscious man down gently, and then stretched his aching back. John Casey was a heavy burden for anyone to carry; and Dixon was very likely the only one with the size, and strength to do it. As he stretched, he saw the geek-a truly nice man, he realized-come over and slip out of his jacket.

As Chuck Bartowski draped his jacket over John Casey-Johnny Dixon-hot fury whipped its way through the Colonel.

_It was a lie; Johnny's death was a lie…_

Shivering, Dixon pulled out his binoculars, and looked at the Stargate, lying just in sight. It was not unattended. There were three guards there; each fully armed, and certain to give an alarm if they saw anyone.

"Damn…" he muttered, adjusting his binoculars to search around the immediate area.

Well…there was good news of a sort…

"Okay," he said. "It's just the three guards. Nobody else is in sight. I need your mad skills, Devereaux."

"What skills?" Bartowski asked from his place at John Casey's side.

"Sniping," Devereaux moved to a rock, hefting her long-range rifle. "Give me a few minutes, Colonel."

"Sure," Dixon turned back to Bartowski and Casey…

Casey hadn't stirred at all; despite being slung over Dixon's shoulder for most of the day. He was barely breathing now; chest scarcely moving; and the way the geek was staring at him, the grief and horror, was terrible to see.

"It's not your fault," Dixon tried to soothe the kid.

"If only I had been more observant," Bartowski laid a hand on Casey's shoulder. "If I had, we wouldn't be here, and Casey wouldn't be dying."

"Don't say that!" the words were out of Dixon before he fully registered what he was saying. Bartowski gave him such a compassionate look; he had to turn away from it. It just hurt too much.

_Why didn't anyone tell me he was alive?_

Looking at Devereaux, because he didn't want to look at Casey, or Bartowski-the kid's compassion was threatening to completely shatter him-he saw she was now ready to commence. Her rifle was set now; scope and silencer in place. As Dixon watched, she calmly took out all three of the guards; one right after the other.

_Damn, she's good…_

"Call HQ," he ordered Plummer. "Tell them we've found both of them and one of them's hurt badly.

While SGT. Plummer was carrying out his orders, Dixon walked back to Bartowski, and…Casey.

"It's time," he hoisted Casey over his shoulders one more time.

They reached the Stargate without incident. Plummer had just started the dialing sequence when several blaster-bolts streaked out. No one was hit this time.

"Bartowski!" Dixon ordered. "When the Gate is open, you run on through. We'll cover you-"

"I can't leave Casey!" Bartowski protested. "If he-"

"The quicker you get through, the quicker _everyone_ will get through," Dixon glanced at Bartowski. "Now, _move_. That's an order, soldier."

The kid obeyed, running through the open Gate. The anguish Dixon saw in Bartowski's eyes would stay with him for a good long while. But, the kid was safe now, on the Earth side of the Gate.

He looked down at the _NSA_ agent.

"Okay, Johnny," he murmured. "We're going home now."

"Devereaux," he called out. "I'll carry him in. Cover me, and run in as soon as I'm clear. Absolutely _no_ heroics this time; got it?"

"Yes, sir," he heard his people settling their weapons as he hauled Casey over his shoulders.

_One last time…_

"Now, sir!" As the sound of renewed gunfire erupted behind him, he headed for the Stargate…

Dixon had long since become used to that _here-there-everywhere_ feeling he always got going through those things. When everything became _real_ again, he was back in the Stargate Chamber, safe and sound. He turned slightly, saw the rest of SG15 coming though. Everyone was in.

Bartowski was with this blonde woman, crying in her arms. Dr. Fraiser was there, with a stretcher and four of her aides. Dixon laid Casey down upon the stretcher, stepped back, and watched the experts get to work.

"He's flat-lined," an aide said, sliding a ventilator-tube down Casey's throat, while another aide started CPR…

All of a sudden, Dixon felt dazed, all the voices around him melting into a meaningless babble. He looked up, saw O'Neill; and, next to him, General Beckman.

_I remember you. You were there, at Johnny's funeral. You knew he was alive…_

* * *

_Colorado Springs_

General Jack O'Neill was in his office, along with General Beckman. Everyone was back, safe and sound; with the possible exception of the _NSA_ agent, who was very likely going to die of his injuries; a blaster-bolt to the chest was no laughing matter. But the Intersect, at least, was safe. At least for now…

Colonel Dixon was the problem now…

He had been mourning his twin brother's death for almost twenty years now.

_Helluva thing to find your brother alive, after all these years…_

Especially since that brother was not expected to survive…

The door knocked, and Dixon strode in; blue eyes, full of icy fury, going right to General Beckman.

"Colonel Dixon," O'Neill kept his tone conversational. "This is General Beckman. I've just been telling her of your success in bringing Mr. Bartowski, and Major John Casey back, safe and sound."

"One of them, anyway…"Dixon's mutter was barely audible. He saluted Beckman; blue eyes still furious…

"You have every right to be angry," Beckman met those eyes squarely; "Major Casey is one of our finest assets."

"Well, ma'am," Dixon snarled. "Before he was an asset of yours, before he was Major Casey, he was Johnny Dixon. He was my _family_. What gave you the right to take him away from us? To this day, I believe it was Johnny's so-called death that killed our mother."

"I remember," Beckman nodded. "And John will carry those regrets for as long as he lives…"

"Which might not be all that long now," O'Neill flinched at the bitterness in Dixon's voice

"Even so," Beckman continued on. "John understood it was his duty to make that sacrifice; to forsake family, home, and hearth; to protect the Greater Good, you might say."

"Yeah," Dixon grunted. "But…working for the _NSA?_ "

"Colonel Dixon, the Armed Forces always try to make the best possible use of its assets; those who serve. _You_ , for example… Your Psych evaluation shows you have an exceptionally strong grounding in _family_. Home, and Hearth, are your touchstones, what you fight for. Your brother, John, was made of different stuff…"

"Yeah," Dixon's eyes held a distant cast, remembering years past. "They all said he was the bad boy…"

"Not bad," Beckman said. "Just grounded in different values and needs. The married life, family life, didn't appeal to him, he liked action; and, apologies, Colonel, but he was a stone-cold killer. It was far better to harness all that, put it to good use, than to sit and wait for him to get into trouble."

"He wouldn't have!" Dixon protested.

"It would have happened, Colonel, and Leavenworth would have been the least of his worries."

O'Neill closed his eyes. This was almost more than he could bear. But _someone_ had to be here, to mediate between the two; and, perhaps, also to bear witness...

* * *

Sarah Walker sat by the bed. Chuck had finally fallen asleep, after telling her everything. Walker, herself, felt drained.

Bryce Larkin was dead. That bit of news had brought tears to her eyes as well; and-proof of Chuck's innate goodness-he had held _her_ for a bit as she cried over the news.

Now, Chuck was sleeping, and Walker found an extra blanket, and tucked him him in snugly, kissing him on the forehead…

She knew she should report to Director Graham as soon as possible. But her mind just refused to function right now.

_I should see Casey_ , she realized.

The word was that he wasn't expected to live. That hurt like a fist in the gut. So, she had to see him; before he died…

The ICU was quiet, only the one patient in there; and the only sounds Walker heard were the _beep-beep-beep_ of the heart monitor, and the sighing sound of the mechanical ventilator. Bracing herself, Walker looked down at him.

She had never expected to see John Casey like this; eyelids taped shut, tubes up his nose, and down his throat; there were even EEG leads attached to his scalp…

He lay motionless, arms still at his sides; and Walker gently laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to see him tense up a little. He didn't like being touched. But there was no response to the hand gently caressing his shoulder.

"Please wake up," she murmured. "I can't protect Chuck all on my own. I trust you, John. You're the only partner I would ever want. You understand. I know this now. You're the only one who can keep me, and Chuck, on an even keel. Please, come back to us…"

Sighing, Walker turned away, the sound of the heart monitor and ventilator following her out of the ICU.

_Maybe Chuck is right. Maybe I should pray…_


	3. Chapter 3

It was very late, in the wee hours of the morning, and Colonel Dave Dixon had been unable to sleep. So, in place of sleep, he had gone down to Medical, to keep watch over his long-lost twin brother, Major John Casey. Dragging a chair up close to Casey's bed, he settled down to spend the rest of the night by Casey's side.

John Casey- _Johnny Dixon_ -was still alive; the heart monitor still beeping, however unsteadily, the mechanical ventilator steadily pumping oxygen into his lungs.

Dixon stared at his brother's face; what he could see of it through all the tubes, and tape, and all he could do was remember…

_Johnny was always the reckless one, the one to go out on a limb…_

He leaned over, touched Casey's right cheek, seeing the faint outline of a scar there.

_We were three years old, and Johnny thought he could sled down the stairs in Mom's laundry basket._

Well… _that_ had ended in tears and stitches too. But Johnny had grown up with a penchant for living dangerously. Of the two, he was always the one to leap into action without thought for the consequences, unlike Dave, who was always the more sedate of the two. There had been a bit of a rough patch when the boys had reached their teens

If it hadn't been for their Uncle John, a cop, Johnny might've ended up in _real_ trouble.

_Uncle John was always taking Johnny out for rides in his Crown Vic. Uncle John took it hard when they told us Johnny was dead. We all did…_

Dixon sighed sadly, patting Casey's shoulder.

"Why did they lie to us, Johnny?" he muttered. "Why did you fake your death like that?"

…..

_Twenty years ago…_

_It was supposed to be the best time of Dave Dixon's life. In one of life's little clichés, he had married his high school sweetheart, and also received a promotion to Lieutenant. The months leading up to the wedding had been hectic ones, full of party-type events, including the Wedding shower, and the inevitable Stag Party, the last of which having been orchestrated with typical aplomb by Johnny Dixon._

_Dave's Best Man, Johnny had been the one to keep Dave on an even keel on the Wedding Day. He got Dave up in the morning, made him eat breakfast, laid out the tuxedos, and gotten him to the church on time…_

_When Dave Dixon and his wife arrived from the honeymoon vacation in Hawaii two weeks later, Johnny was long gone, back to his base, where he had acquired a considerable reputation as a test-pilot, and Dave received a summons from his Commanding Officer, Colonel Hansen…_

_So, there he was, presenting himself at the Colonel's office._

" _Lieutenant Dixon to see Colonel Hansen," he told the Corporal manning the office._

" _Ah…Dave," Colonel Hansen stood in the doorway to his private office. "Come in."_

_Dixon entered, saluted smartly_

" _At ease," Hansen murmured. Then, seeing Dixon's idea of_ _ **at ease**_ _, he added. "No son. When I say at ease, I mean_ _ **relax**_ _. Better yet, sit."_

_He pointed to a chair in front of his desk._

" _I've got some bad news, Lieutenant, about your brother…"_

_Dixon felt his heart skip a beat at that. Johnny was still a bit of a hot-head at times. The Colonel continued…_

" _Test-pilots are a brave bunch; there's no denying that. Lieutenant John Dixon was…out doing what test-pilots do. There was some sort of malfunction, and…son, he was unable to eject."_

_Hansen's voice…faded from Dixon's awareness, along with everything else. Then, Dixon found himself sitting in the chair, with no clear memory of how he had gotten there. Hansen was bending over him, holding a tumbler-glass half-full of something golden-amber._

_Mutely, he offered it to Dixon; the young Lieutenant accepted it with shaking hands_

_It was whiskey, and it went down warm and smooth, pooling hot in his belly, clearing his head. Finally, he could trust his voice to speak…_

" _J-johnny?" he couldn't stop the quaver in his voice_ **.** _Hansen looked back at him with sad eyes._

" _The jet exploded, Dave," he said. "There wasn't even enough to bring home in a body bag. I'm sorry, son…"_

_So, just scant weeks after his wedding, Lieutenant Dave Dixon found himself attending his twin brother's closed-casket funeral service. Colonel Hansen also attended the service; along with another Colonel_ _that Dixon had never met before. This one was a woman, but there was something about Colonel Louisa Beckman which suggested she might be a tougher, harder personality, than Colonel Hansen._

_She was perfunctorily polite to Mrs. Katherine Dixon, the mother of Dave and John Dixon. Then, respects paid, she had left; but not before giving Dave a cool appraising stare that was, somehow, quite terrifying…_

_Kate Dixon had been hit very hard by Johnny's death and Dixon worried about her. She was all alone now, her husband, Dave Senior, had died some years back; a sudden heart attack._

_He had her move in with him and his wife, so someone would be around to take care of her. But not even the announcement of impending grandchildren stopped her slow decline. Kate Dixon died in her sleep eight months later, and there was yet another funeral service to attend._

_The saddest thing, for Dave Dixon, was that his kids would never know their Grandma Kate, or their Uncle Johnny…_

…..

Chuck Bartowski opened his eyes, looked around. He was all tucked up in a warm bed, and there was the sound of soft snoring off to his right. Turning his head, he saw Sarah Walker curled up in a chair. For a brief moment, he had no idea where he was. Then, it all came back. They were in Boulder, Colorado, deep underground, in Stargate HQ.

And John Casey was dying…

_I have to see him…_

He got out of bed quietly, so as not to awaken Walker. He brought the blanket over, and began to drape it over her, but her hand caught his wrist.

"Chuck?" Sarah's voice was groggy.

"Its okay, Sarah," he ruffled her hair. "I'm just going to check on Casey, okay?"

"I should get up…"

"No," Chuck pressed her back. "Go back to sleep. Better yet, use the bed. Your back will thank you. Come on, get into bed. We're all safe here."

Sarah allowed him to guide her back to the bed he had just vacated. He waited until he was sure she was asleep. Then, he headed off to the _ICU_ …

Colonel Dixon was already there, legs sprawled out; chin resting on his chest; deep rumbling snores filling the room.

Casey was still alive; eyelids taped shut, the ventilator breathing for him. Chuck stood there, grieving, trying to sniffle the tears back. Dixon awoke with a start, staring blankly up at Chuck.

""Uh…hey, Colonel," Chuck waved nervously. Dixon rubbed his face wearily, not totally awake just yet.

"Chuck Bartowski?"

"Yeah, that's me," Chuck nodded. "I'd say I was glad to meet you, but…"

He fell silent, not sure what to say. The heart monitor's beeping, and the sighing sound of the mechanical ventilator filled up the silence.

"Yeah," Dixon got to his feet, stretching. "I know what you mean."

He worked the kinks out of his back and neck, looked back down at Casey.

"He was with you," he asked. "Protecting you?"

"For the past year," Chuck wiped the tears away. "He was…"

Bartowski's voice trailed off as he realized there was very little of Casey he could tell the man that wasn't classified in one way or another; except for this…

"He was a friend."

That was true, Chuck realized. Casey, intractable, stubborn, and temperamental as he was, had become a friend of Chuck's over this past year. And now, he was dying…

He heard the sound of someone clearing his throat behind him, turned to see four people. Instantly, he was inundated by a Flash…

Lt. Colonels Samantha Carter and Cameron Mitchell, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and…Teal'c…

"Jaffa!" Bartowski smacked his forehead. "I forgot to tell Casey about the Jaffa!"

…..

Colonel Carter ignored the geek. Colonel Dixon looked like death warmed over, and the reason was lying, _dying_ , in that bed over there. Everyone on the SG teams knew Dixon had a twin brother who had died years ago; one of those open secrets everyone knows, but never talks about…

But, apparently rumors of that brother's demise had been greatly exaggerated.

Until now, it seemed…

_What a way to find out your brother had been alive all along…_

"You okay, Dave?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dixon replied, although everyone could tell he wasn't…

"We were told upon arrival," Teal'c, as usual, spoke gravely. "If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask."

And, still, the geek was babbling about Jaffa and Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes…

"You're Teal'c," Bartowski was looking at him with excited eyes. "You're one of the Jaffa!"

"I am," Teal'c turned to regard him. "And you are?"

"Oh, uh…" the geek self-consciously held out a hand. "I'm Chuck Bartowski. Is it true you can use Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes to save lives?"

"It has been done before," the Jaffa raised an eyebrow at the geek's question. Carter nodded at that.

"Where did we park our brains?" she asked no one in particular. Mitchell opened his mouth to speak anyway. But Daniel Jackson got there first.

"I don't think we _really_ need an answer to that particular question," he said, smiling brightly. "Let's just go to Dakara and see if we can score a symbiote."

Carter saw Dixon close his eyes in mute gratitude.

"Why didn't you ask, Dave?" she said.

"I was afraid the answer would be no," he admitted, looking at the floor, as if ashamed.

"Don't worry, Dave," Carter reassured him. "We'll bring a symbiote back for your brother."

"And when were you going to tell _me_ about your plans?" Dr. Janet Fraiser strode into the _ICU_ , followed by General O'Neill.

"Hey, we just decided," Mitchell protested. "We were going to tell you."

"Janet," Carter spoke up. "What are Major Casey's chances right now? Slim to virtually nil?"

"So you want to go to Dakara, get a Symbiote, and implant it in my patient?"

"Yes," Carter nodded. "After all the years of dedicated service Colonel Dixon has given the SG Program, surely he deserves-"

"Absolutely not!" Fraiser over-rode her. "In his present condition, Major Casey would never survive the procedure."

"He's gonna die anyway," Dixon finally spoke up. "You told me that last night. Look, Johnny's always been a fighter. He's never given _anything_ up without a damn good fight. He's fighting right now. Please, give him a fighting chance…"

Dixon's voice broke, and he angrily scrubbed the tears away,

"I'm _begging_ you, Janet," he continued. "Give Johnny a fighting chance."

Fraiser closed her eyes for a second. Then she sighed.

"If he lives," she warned Dixon. "There will be repercussions for his immune system."

"What kind of repercussions?" Bartowski asked.

"Nothing a sarcophagus couldn't cure," General O'Neill said; and Carter knew that if anyone knew about that, it would be General O'Neill…

"A… _sarcophagus_..?" Bartowski was clearly creeped out by the idea.

"It'll repair the immune system damage," O'Neill explained patiently. "I thought you got _everything_ with those Flashes of yours'."

"Uh, just the high points, mostly."

"Um… _Flashes_ …sir?"

"Never mind, Colonel Carter; you have a mission to Dakara." O'Neill reminded her.

"Oh, yes," Samantha Carter clapped her hands briskly. "Ready to go, guys?"

"Uh," Chuck raised a hand. "Can I go with you guys when you get the Symbiote? "

"I think it would be best if you helped Dave watch over John Casey," O'Neill said. "Don't you?"

"Uh…okay," Chuck nodded.

The team SG-1 turned to leave. Dixon stopped them at the door.

"Thanks, guys, I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it, Dave" Carter smiled. "We'll be back in no time."

…..

Sarah Walker awakened around seven hours later, feeling more alert than she had before. Chuck wasn't there, but Walker knew where he would be found. So she walked down to the _ICU_. Chuck was there, but the bed he was sitting next to was empty.

"Oh, god…" she stared at the empty bed, tears welling in her eyes.

"No, Sarah…" Chuck got to his feet, took her hands. "He's in surgery now. They're implanting an Immature Goa'uld Symbiote into him. Hopefully, it'll save his life. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said, relief flooding her, now she knew Casey wasn't dead yet. "What's this about Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes?"

"The Jaffa use them, but they're immature so they don't take people over. What they do is nice stuff like accelerate healing; which is something Casey can really use right about now."

"Will they bring him back here if he survives the surgery?"

"No. They'll have to put him in an Isolation Ward because the one downside to the Symbiote is that it does damage the immune system."

"But…"

"Don't worry, Sarah," Chuck reassured her. "General O'Neill got into contact with Colonel Carter's Dad. He's with the _Tok'ra_ now, and they're going to bring something they call a sarcophagus, although it's _not_ , really. It'll repair the immune system damage, and Casey will be good as new."

The sound of footsteps brought them around to see Teal'c, and Colonel Dixon enter the room. Sarah was fascinated by Teal'c. If she hadn't read the report, signed by several generals associated with the Stargate program, some of whom she knew personally, and trusted, she would never have believed that he literally came from another world. He looked utterly human; with the possible exception of the tattoo on his forehead. But Walker had seen stranger things as an Agent for the _CIA…_

Dave Dixon also merited some careful study. With the exception of the scar on the right cheek that Casey had, Dixon was a complete physical duplicate of Casey. It was in the area of mind and soul that the differences manifested themselves.

Dave Dixon was calmer than John, a more serene presence. It apparently took a lot to light his fuse, unlike John Casey, who seemed to be permanently angry at the world in general…

Married, with four children, he was also a dedicated family man. Sarah wondered if John Casey would ever settle down, or if he would live, and die, the Perpetual Bachelor…

"Hey, guys," Bartowski asked. "How did it go?"

"He's still hanging in there," Dixon replied.

"Indeed," Teal'c nodded. "His strength, and will to live, is most impressive."

""I told you Johnny was a fighter," there was a distinct note of pride in the Colonel's voice.

"How are _you_ holding up, Colonel?" Walker asked him. "It must have been a terrible shock for you."

"It was," Dixon admitted. "I just can't figure out _why_ he felt he had to fake his death like that."

"To protect you," Walker said.

"Huh?" Dixon was flummoxed. "I'm a big boy, Ms. Walker. I can take care of myself."

"Your wife and kids can't," Walker looked up at him steadily. "Agents like Casey and me…we can't afford families. The people we fight, terrorist, drug dealers, that sort of person, would think nothing of killing women or children. _That's_ what John was protecting you from."

"Did you know he was my brother?"

"No, Colonel. But all of us in this business have left our families behind. It's the only way we can keep them safe from what we do."

Of course, some agents had less choice in the matter than others. But Walker didn't want to bring up the vagaries of her own familial situation. It was enough to let Colonel Dixon know that Casey's apparent abandonment of his family had been born of the very highest motives; to protect those he loved.

"He's in the Isolation Ward now?" Chuck asked Teal'c.

"Yes," the Jaffa nodded. "Recovery will be fast, and Dr. Fraiser will want to take the Symbiote out, and place him in the sarcophagus, as quickly as possible."

"Especially since Johnny was never what you would call a _good_ patient," Dixon observed.

"Gee," Bartowski grinned. "Ya think?"

"You know him well, it seems," Teal'c said.

"Well," Bartowski shrugged. "He's been a regular presence in my life-whether I want him or not-for about a year now, and _patience_ was never a forte of his."

Dixon laughed out loud.

"You _do_ know him well," the Colonel said. "Look, there's a cafeteria here, and I bet you haven't even had Breakfast today, let alone Lunch. Let's get some food. It might be a long wait."

…..

Consciousness returned slowly, creeping in on the tattered edges of dreams. John Casey opened his eyes. Last he remembered, he had been talking to Chuck about the Geek's Flashes; about Goa'uld Slugs, and various and assorted ETs. Now, he was _here_ , in a plain white room, lying on a plain white bed, and _then_ and _now_ just would _not_ connect. His chest hurt, and he could feel oxygen cannulae in his nose. An IV tube snaked its way down from a stand, connecting at his left wrist.

_What the hell happened?_

Casey looked down at himself. He was wearing what looked like pajama bottoms, and a large square of gauze and tape covered his chest.

_Must've gotten shot… Bartowski…Where is he? Where am_ _**I** _ _?_

He sat up slowly, testing his limits. His chest twinged, but everything seemed fine thus far.

_Gotta find Bartowski…_

Casey pulled the cannulae out of his nose, got carefully to his feet. The answers he needed lay on the other side of the door. He took a step forward; his legs just…gave out beneath him, and he fell, bringing the IV stand down as well. The resulting clatter brought several people into the room; each one clad in what looked like _HAZMAT_ suits.

That sent a pang of fear up Casey's spine, and he grabbed the IV stand, ready to do battle if necessary, although he wasn't sure how much of a fight he could put up, given his current condition. One of the strangers looked down at him, hands on hips.

"Jesus, Johnny," instantly, Casey recognized the voice that issued from a speaker attached to the suit. That voice, so like his own, filled him with grief, and shame…

"You trying to kill yourself again?"

Casey crouched there, the IV stand clutched in his hands.

"Dave?"

"Yeah," the other man moved forward. ""Put that IV stand down. It's not a weapon, and I'm not an enemy."

As another person, faceless in that suit, righted the IV stand, Dave Dixon hauled his brother back up, setting him back on the bed. Casey saw Dixon's face through the face-plate, and all he felt was guilt…

"You were shot, Johnny," Dixon explained. "We saved your life using an experimental medical treatment. The downside is that your immune system was compromised."

" _AIDS?'_ Casey felt pure horror course through his veins.

"No," Dixon's gloved hands were on his shoulders; a reassuring weight. "We have a treatment that will reverse all of that. You'll need to be sedated for that, but it will all be fine. Chuck Bartowski's fine too, and you're both back on Earth."

Dixon's gloved hands picked up the oxygen cannulae, and Casey growled deep in the back of his throat when he saw it.

"Come on, Johnny," Dixon pleaded. "The sooner you co-operate, the faster it will go."

Grumbling, Casey slipped the thing back into his nose, looking like a rebellious child. Dixon shook his head, chuckling.

"You really haven't changed at all. Have you, Johnny?"

Casey's throat tightened at the pure affection in Dixon's voice, sudden tears pricking his eyes.

"'Dave…" he began. "I'm…I just…"

"Its okay, Johnny," Dixon's arms enveloped him in a hug. "I _was_ angry; but not anymore."

"It was the safest way," Casey continued. "I've made lots of enemies, and I didn't want you guys dragged into it. Sometimes, I have to do things you might call evil…"

"Is protecting a guy like Chuck Bartowski evil?"

"Bartowski's case is unique," suddenly Casey felt bone-weary. "And I don't often get to be the Guard Dog."

Indeed, he knew he had been sent there because he could be counted upon to kill the geek when the Beta Intersect came online. The thing was, Casey wasn't so sure, now, that he would be able to do the deed when the time came…

"Look, Johnny, you need rest. We'll talk later. I think they're ready to give you the sedative right now."

"What for?"

Casey heard Dixon's snort.

"So they can treat your immune system, Mr. Paranoid. When you wake up, everything will be fine, and we'll be able to talk face-to-face, instead of me having to wear this damn space-suit. That okay with you?"

Casey watched as another person injected the sedative into his bloodstream. Dixon helped settle him back into bed, fluffing pillows, and drawing the blankets up to his shoulders.

"If you kiss me goodnight, I swear I'll kill you," Casey warned.

"Just get some sleep, jackass," Dixon stood. "I promise you, I'll be here when you wake up."

Darkness slowly descended. The last thing Casey felt was a gloved hand patting his shoulder.

…..

All in all, Chuck Bartowski decided that sarcophaguses- _sarcophagi?_ -were as creepy as hell, in spite of their beneficent effect. He watched through a Plexiglas window as _Tok'ra_ attendants lifted the heavily sedated John Casey, and gently placed him inside that thing. Bartowski shivered as the lid was closed. That had seemed so _final_ …

"How long do you think it will take?" he asked

"Not long, Dr. Fraiser said as she monitored the activity going on inside the sarcophagus. "The damage to Major Casey's immune system was minimal; so maybe a day, or two."

Another thought, a terrifying one, occurred to him.

"He won't wake up in there, will he?"

"No," Fraiser shook her head. "He'll remain unconscious until he is brought out."

Bartowski nodded in relief, turned to see Sarah Walker putting her cell phone away.

"I just called Ellie," she explained. "I told her you're fine, and Casey's got hurt, but it looks like he'll be fine too."

"You didn't let me talk to her?" Chuck's face fell.

"We need to set our cover," Sarah spoke solemnly. "All Ellie, Awesome, and Morgan know is that you and Casey were kidnapped during a botched mugging attempt. You were taken to Boulder, Colorado, which is where you were rescued by local authorities; but not before John got himself shot-"

"Please don't make it sound like he did something dumb, Sarah. He almost died keeping me safe."

"I know, Chuck. I suggested that much to Ellie, and I'm sure she will make her appreciation of John Casey known."

"I'm just amazed we actually survived it," Chuck felt Sarah put her arms around him. "I mean, I was so sure we were both going to die; then Casey got shot…"

"Everything's all right now," Sarah soothed him. "In a few weeks, we'll all be able to go home."

Yes, everything _was_ all right; for now…

It had been hard enough when it had been the various assorted baddies that Chuck Flashed on and _FULCRUM_ …

But he had been on his way to getting a handle on that, at least. So it really made sense-in a Murphy's Law sort of way-that a new complication should come along right about now.

_Why did it have to be an extraterrestrial who wants me? What could they possibly want me for?_

And he couldn't let himself forget.

_They killed Bryce Larkin…_

…..

That buzzing sound was as irritating as hell, sort of like and idling engine, and John Casey wanted to smack the hell out of it. His hand reached under the pillow, and the lack of a gun, or a knife, was what brought him fully awake, panic tingling along arms and legs.

"Casey!" Chuck Bartowski was bending over him, wearing regular clothes. Had the immune system damage been fixed?

"Bartowski…" his voice sounded rough and scratchy to his ears. "Did they…"

"Relax Casey," the geek said. "Your immune system is fine. You're fine."

That buzzing sound was still there; even more irritating than before.

"What the hell is that noise?" Casey grumbled

Bartowski merely pointed to the wall on Casey's right. There' sprawled out in a chair, head tilted back, was Colonel Dave Dixon.

"Dave said he'd be there when you woke up," the geek explained. "But, ever since he found us, he's been running up short in the sleep department. How do you feel, Casey?"

"I'm fine," a slight spasm of pain worked its way through his chest. That, of course, prompted Bartowski to go into _fussbudget mode_ , dithering over whether to get a doctor.

"Can it, Bartowski," Casey was strongly tempted to smack the geek upside the head.

"Yeah," Bartowski mumbled. Then, more loudly; "I saw you get shot, Casey. You almost died. If it hadn't been for the Jaffa, you _would've_ died."

"Jaffa?"

Bartowski smacked himself on the forehead.

"I really shouldn't have said that," he muttered.

For a moment, Dixon's snoring was the only sound in the room.

"What are the Jaffa, Bartowski? _More_ people with slugs inside?"

"Uh, yeah… But they only use immature slugs, so they're too young to take anyone over; and they do good things like accelerate healing."

Casey grabbed Chuck's wrist, a sudden fear rising within him.

"You didn't… _they_ didn't..?"

"It was only in you for a short while, not even two days," Chuck hastened to reassure him. "And you don't have it now. They took it out when your body was strong enough to continue healing on its own. But it saved your life. You would've died without it."

That was when Colonel Dixon came awake with a snort, jerking upright in the chair.

"Whoa!" Chuck laughed. "You sounded exactly like Casey there!"

"I've got news for you, Bartowski," Casey was still a little frightened that one of those Goa'uld slug-things had been _inside_ him, even if only for a little while. "We're twins, so we're gonna sound alike. Could you leave us alone for a while, Chuck?"

"You guys sure you won't need a mediator?"

"Chuck," Casey closed his eyes, counted to ten. "Just go…please."

"Okay," the geek left the room, and Dixon dragged his chair closer to Casey's bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"You didn't put a Goa'uld slug into me, did you?"

Dixon sighed.

"I'm gonna kill that geek," he muttered.

"Welcome to my world," Casey spoke dryly. " _Did_ you?"

"Only for a while, Johnny. You would've died without it."

"So Bartowski said. Any possible side-effects I should know about?"

"Only the immune system thing, and that's been fixed. Relax, Johnny, you're fine. I'm gonna get Dr. Fraiser, let her know you're awake."

"Wait, Johnny," Casey's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. Dixon sat back down.

"What is it, Johnny?"

"I need to tell you why I did what I did."

"General Beckman told me some of it; as did Agent Walker."

"Yeah," Casey nodded. "The kind of people Walker and I put away make the mafia look like choirboys. I was just trying to protect you, your wife and kids, and Mom too. I just didn't expect her too…"

His voice broke then, and he felt Dixon's hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Johnny."

"The hell it wasn't!" Casey looked up at his brother. "The reports all said she just withered away."

"What's done is done," the Colonel said. "We don't get do-overs in this life."

"I know," Casey nodded, in control of himself once more. "I never meant to hurt anyone. But faking my death, changing my name, was the only way I could do my job and keep you guys safe."

"But you missed so much!" Dixon pulled out his wallet. He brought out a photo, handed it to Casey.

"It was taken six months ago," Dixon said. "Just before your namesake joined the Marines."

The Dixon genes had bred true; all four of the kids-two boys, two girls-took more after their father then their mother. But the resemblance between young John Dixon, and his father was absolutely uncanny; the same blue eyes, exceptionally strong jaw-line, the pointed chin, and that typically Irish nose…

"He looks exactly like we did when we were that age," he handed the photo back.

"Keep it, "Dixon said. "They're your nieces and nephews, and I've got plenty more pictures."

Casey sighed.

"I can't, Johnny. Photos can be traces, and they would find you guys."

" _They?_ " Dixon's brow furrowed. "Oh… the guys you put away."

Now, he sighed.

"It must be a lonely life you're leading. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Casey shrugged uncomfortably. It _was_ a lonely life; but he could accept loneliness, and so much more besides, if it meant his brother's family was kept safe from harm.

"As long as I can protect my country," he said. "It's a price I'm willing to pay."

"Get some sleep, Johnny," Dixon stood. "We'll talk later."

"Yeah, goodnight, Dave" Alone, Casey closed his eyes, fighting back the tears…

…..

_LA Two Weeks Later…_

Ellie Bartowski, Devon Woodcomb, and Morgan Grimes were waiting, not-so-patiently, for Sarah Walker to bring Chuck Bartowski, and John Casey, home after their unexpected adventure. Ellie shivered.

_A mugging gone bad. How did they end up all the way in Boulder Colorado?_

During the rescue operation, one of the muggers had apparently tried to kill Chuck; but John Casey had apparently taken the bullet instead.

_How do you thank a man for almost dying, saving your baby brother's life?_

There the black van was; heading into the apartment complex's parking lot. Ellie ran up to the van, just as Chuck was getting out.

"Oof!" he grunted as she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. "I'm fine Ellie! Really, I am."

"I know," Ellie stepped back to wipe her eyes. "All because of John's bravery."

Speaking of which…

John Casey was getting out of the van slowly, a cane in one hand. The doctor in Ellie noted the pallor of his skin, and the little twitches that ghosted over his features. He was still in pain.

Feeling very shy, she hugged him gently, with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for protecting Chuck," she said.

Casey shrugged awkwardly, not really sure how to react to that.

"Okay," Ellie, the _Caregiver_ , took over, clapping her hands briskly. "You're going to stay with us for a while, John; until you're fully recovered."

Casey opened his mouth to speak, but Devon over-rode him.

"Don't fight it, bro," he said. "You took care of Chuck. Not, it's our turn to take care of you."

"Yeah," Morgan Grimes affirmed. "I could almost hug you for keeping Chuck safe."

"Just one word, Grimes," Casey growled. " _Don't_."

"Dude, I said _almost_ ; okay?"

…..

_Buy More, Six Months Later…_

John Casey was busy, selling a Beastmaster Grill to a very interested young couple. It never ceased to amaze him that people made livings doing this.

He had chosen his own career path-the Marines, and then the _NSA-_ out of two main drives. He had always firmly believed in protecting his country. Honor and Duty were more than mere buzz-words for him. He had also come to realize that part of what he did was rooted in a deep desire for action.

But no one had ever told him about the intense satisfaction to be gained simply by making a sale.

_Not that I'm going soft, or anything…_

The sale clinched, he heard Chuck Bartowski's voice over the store intercom.

_John Casey, please report to the Nerd-Herder Station…_

The geek had probably Flashed…

_There goes my quiet afternoon…_

But Bartowski was fine. He was deep in conversation with a woman. Her back was turned, so Casey couldn't see who it was. Except that it wasn't Sarah Walker…

"Casey," Chuck gestured at the woman as she turned. "You have a visitor."

It was Dr. Janet Fraiser.

"Hello John," she said. "I was in the area, and General Beckman said I could visit you at the _Buy More_."

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"Just a quick physical exam," she replied. "I like to make sure all my patients are fine."

"Use the Employee Break Room," Bartowski advised. As Casey bristles, he added. "Look, buddy, the quicker you do this, the quicker it'll be done."

_True…_

Casey sighed as he led Dr. Fraiser to the Employee break Room.

"What do I need to do?" he asked once they were there. "Bend over and say _ahh_?"

A snort escaped Fraiser's lips.

"Taking your shirt off should be sufficient, Major."

"How's everyone…back there?" he asked as he pulled his shirt off.

"Colonel Dixon is fine," Fraiser took his pulse, listened to his heart and breathing. "He sends his regards."

"Uh…tell him I…uh…"

He shrugged awkwardly.

"Why is it always so hard?" he muttered.

"Because you're a _man_ ," Fraiser spoke crisply. "And heaven forbid a man should admit to feeling love."

Casey winced at that all-too-accurate assessment of his character. Only a very few days ago, Chuck Bartowski had used Casey's problem with expressing… _Lady Feelings_ …to devastating effect.

More and more, he was beginning to realize that he was coming to care for the Intersect and Sarah Walker too, as if he had found a new brother and sister…

He remembered when he had received the order to kill the Intersect. He had been about to, when Sarah had arrived, with news of Director Graham's death, and Casey had fled back to his apartment. Once there, he had just sat there, shaking like a leaf.

_Why don't I tell General Beckman I've been compromised?_

_I can't afford to feel love…_

"You can put your shirt on, Major Casey," Fraiser was finished. "You're fine."

After Casey had pulled on his green _Buy More_ polo, she handed him a letter; from Dave Dixon.

_Johnny,_

_I hope you're well. Johnny Junior is doing well at Boot Camp. He says he's having the time of his life. Adam's itching to join up too, but he's got to wait a few years. I wish I could send you some pictures, but General Beckman apparently agrees with you about the security of my family. I hate that, but what else can I do?_

_If you ever decide to retire, please let me know. I would_ _**love** _ _to stage a resurrection…_

_Love,_

_Dave_

John Casey crumpled the letter, a cold kind of grief settling within him. He couldn't meet Fraiser's compassion-filled gaze.

"Thank you, Dr. Fraiser," he said.

""Be well, Major," she left the room.

Alone, Casey straightened the crumpled letter, and then folded it carefully before putting it into his wallet.

"Casey?" Bartowski's voice pulled him out of long-ago memories.

"Yeah," Casey shook himself. "What do you want, Bartowski?"

"I Flashed on this guy," the geek looked rattled. "He came in to have his phone repaired."

"Did you call Walker?"

"Hey…it's me. Of course I called Sarah!"

"So, what about the guy you Flashed on?"

"He's got his fingers into drugs, and weapon smuggling."

"So, let's find Sarah, and go get him, Chuck."

And, once more, John Casey found himself keeping a watchful eye on Chuck as they prepared to save the world. One more time…

fin


End file.
